


Put The Stars In Our Eyes

by handcversbruise



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Confusion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Happy Ending, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Louis, M/M, Miscommunication, Mostly Fluff, Pining Harry, Scary Movies, Unrequited Love, scary movies are a metaphor, sort of idek, unofficial dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:31:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handcversbruise/pseuds/handcversbruise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis goes on vacation, and Harry wants to get over him. And he will. One scary movie at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put The Stars In Our Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I have honest to god never written fluff before. I mean, Louise calls me the Queen of Angst for a reason. But I wanted to read something like this and someone told me they hadn't read it so I was like, hmm I should write it! Note: I failed miserably and ended up with this.
> 
> I dedicate this to Jasmine because Larry is the antithesis of her life. 
> 
> Read and review xoxo lovelies
> 
> Unbeta'd so mistakes are mine, my own, my precious. (Whatever, I'm really sleepy.)

 

***

 

_Don’t cry_ , he thinks to himself. The screams just get louder, the pitch black screen in front of him doing nothing to help him calm himself. _It’s just a movie, it’s not real_.

Harry’s been marathoning scary movies all day, telling himself it’s to get in the Halloween spirit and not at all because Louis is out of town and he’s bored.

They’re just friends, friends can do things apart from each other, can vacation and visit their other friends, and it’s perfectly fine. Harry’s fine. 

Except for the fact that he’s half hiding half crying behind a leopard print snuggie as the protagonist makes her way down to the basement - seriously, why do people always do that? - before she’s tumbling down the stairs. Harry gasps out a “no!” and brings the warm material up over his eyes because it’s too much for him. 

He hates scary movies. (Louis loves them.) 

It all escalates from there - balls bounce out of nowhere, light bulbs explode, and creepy children’s voices ask “wanna play hide and clap?” and then - 

He jumps off the couch, gangly limbs getting tangled in his snuggie, and he’s tripping over himself trying to get somewhere safe, trying to get away, but if Harry’s being honest he feels like he’s going to cry and that’s pathetic.

He misses Louis something fierce and not even The Conjuring can erase the feeling of loneliness he gets when his best friend is ignoring him. It’s not on purpose of course, Louis would not do that to Harry, but he feels vulnerable so Harry’s allowing his mind to travel to its furthest depths. It’s not fun but it’s necessary.

Eventually he realizes that it’s a bit dumb to stand in the middle of a room looking like you’re about to cry so he makes his way to his bedroom. He feels drained - scary movies take a lot out of him, mostly because he just wants everything to be okay all the time. Despite the way the shadows on his wall make him just the tiniest bit anxious, and the way it seems his flat’s making strange noises, he falls asleep cuddled around his pillow, and if he wishes it were a certain boy with bright eyes blue, that’s his business.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

It’s not long after that Harry’s roused out of bed by insistent knocking on his front door. It’s early evening now, and his dreams of boys with personalities that fit his perfectly have him groggy and giddy, and as he makes his way to the door in a skimpy white tee shirt and trackies, he can’t help the fond smile that’s plastered all over his face.

It’s just - Harry’s crush on Louis has gone on long enough. It’s unrequited obviously, no way Louis feels the same about him when he could have anyone else, but the way he’ll curl up into Harry’s side on the nights he comes over with pizza and a romantic comedy, run his fingers through the mess of curls on Harry’s head (which makes him purr sometimes because okay, Harry’s a little weird) give him hope. But the day before Louis left for to see his family, Harry had seen him in a coffee shop with a pretty girl he recognized as Eleanor, both of them looking cozy, her head on his shoulder as they laughed over something on his laptop screen. So that was that, Harry decided. He’d get over Louis, one scary movie at a time.

And he’s all right really, except for now that he’s gripping the doorknob, he’s imagining someone on the other side aching to thrust a possessed doll into his arms, or worse, stab him in the heart with an axe or - maybe he should quit the horror thing while he’s ahead. 

He gulps down his fear and opens the door, his mental soundtrack choosing to play the theme from Psycho, palms a bit sweaty from nerves. He looks up, bracing himself, and is met with a crinkly eyed smile belonging to the boy of his dreams. 

Louis talks a mile a minute and Harry struggles to catch even half of what he’s saying, he thinks it might be about how Louis misses him, dismissing it as a figment of his overactive imagination. Two minutes later, Louis makes himself at home, bag of crisps on his chest as he lays on the couch and yells at Harry to turn the television on.

_You’re friends, remember? You can do this_. He smiles at Louis so hard, he thinks his cheeks might explode but there’s not much else you can do when you’re in love.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

There’s nothing awkward about the way Louis and Harry settle into each other and there never has been. It’s how they work. Their other friends mumble about “codependency” and “you’re practically married, just shag already” but Louis waves them off, says Harry doesn’t want a moron like him, and it takes everything in Harry’s body not to prove him wrong every time, because Louis is so far from a moron, is so much more wonderful than he’ll let himself believe and -

“Harry, you okay? You look like you’re gonna cry.”

He’s on the floor in front of Louis, clutching his knees (or hiding behind them, whatever) as the screen shows Regan suffering from demonic possession; the whole thing is so sad that it’s making Harry’s chest tighten, eyes fill with tears, because a little girl shouldn’t have to go through the pain of an exorcism, and Harry shouldn’t go through the pain of not being loved back.

He’s sentimental, that’s it. 

“I’m fine. Just hate scary movies.” He’s mumbling (Louis hates that) and his voice is low, raw, like if he speaks any louder he won’t be able to fight the tears off anymore. He sniffles loudly, turns to look up at Louis, hoping just seeing him enjoying himself will cheer him up enough to get through the movie. 

“You dope! It’s just a movie, Haz. Don’t tell me you’re scared.” There’s a teasing lilt to his words as Louis rearranges himself to meet Harry on the floor, nudging him a bit too hard for Harry’s taste. “Well, it is based off a true story, so maybe you should be worried.” 

Harry turns to Louis, lets himself practically fall on top of the shorter boy, and it’s a ridiculous sight, but his eyes are stinging, and the tears are staining Louis’ purple hoodie, changing it’s color almost entirely. It’s an out of body experience in a way, not that Harry isn’t a crier because he is, especially during movies, but Louis’ teasing while he’s trying his best to stop having feelings for him is overwhelming. He thinks it would overwhelm anyone, to have Louis so close and yet so far.

“Harry, baby, stop crying, please, are you okay?” His words are slurred together, obviously worried. Harry feels strong arms wrap around his waist and a chin poke at the top of his head, reassuring and heartbreaking all at once. He swallows down the words he wants to say.

He cries for what seems like hours but is probably more like five minutes, movie forgotten in the background, the _thump thump_ of Louis’ heart beating against his ear serving as a stabilizer. 

The warmth of Louis’ body lulls him to sleep, and another five minutes later, he’s passing out, still clinging so desperately to this boy, his anchor in more ways than one, but that can wait.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

Marimba is the worst ringtone he’s ever had, and yet he still hasn’t found the time to change it. It’s also his text tone, which explains why at four in the morning, he’s waking up to three message, two from Louis. One says that Louis hopes Harry feels better after sleeping for a bit. Another says he tried to stay longer, but he feared his stomach would growl loud enough to wake Harry. The most recent one, sent just two minutes ago, confuses Harry. Because it’s from Louis’ best friend Zayn and it’s asking what Harry did to make Louis so upset. 

He frowns - borderline pouts - at his phone. The very thought of Harry doing something to make Louis purposefully upset is ridiculous. It’s upsetting Harry, so before he can think about it too hard, he dials Zayn’s number.

“Mate, it’s 4:05 am.”

“You texted me three minutes ago.”

Zayn huffs into the phone, exasperation and agitation more than evident in the way his teeth clench as he speaks. “Touche.” 

Harry exhales slowly and his body shakes a bit, feeling himself become more vulnerable. “What happened to Lou, Zayn?”

“You tell me. One second, he’s calling to tell me that he’s coming back early from going home ‘cause he couldn’t stand to be away from you, the next he shows up at my flat looking like he’d never experienced happiness in his life.”

Harry’s stomach drops and he’s overcome with nausea.

“I didn’t do anything.” he drawls out his words more than usual and it feels like a lie.

“Fix it Harry. And fix it now.”

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

If another scary movie plays on his television, Harry’s sure he’ll cancel his cable. Louis is in his kitchen making popcorn and Harry can hear him humming Valerie, which is probably the only thing keeping him from screaming hysterically at this point because Chucky’s just killed his bride and he’s more than a little freaked out.

_Hi I’m Chucky, wanna play?_

Playing with a doll that hosts the soul of a murderer is the last thing on Harry’s bucket list - he also notices just how many horror movies revolve around dolls, for fucks sake - and he’s resenting Louis for continuing to put on these films when it’s clear that they make Harry uncomfortable.

(The whole “get over Louis by scaring him out of you” thing was a flop, Harry admits.)

“Lou? Can you hurry up please?” It’s apparent in the way his voice cracks on the last word that this isn’t a normal reaction to scary movies. The films stay with Harry, leave him impacted and paranoid, and he’s having trouble sleeping. Louis makes fun of him more often than not, refusing to tell Harry what happened with Zayn, opting instead to terrify Harry.

The scent of buttery popcorn filled the air, signalling Louis coming back to his spot next to Harry (more like half on top of Harry, but he didn’t mind).

“Can’t you get through just one scene without me, Haz?”

_No I can’t.  
_

“Just hurry up, lazy arse. I need another pillow.” It’s downright grotesque the way Louis’ giggle summons ridiculously large butterflies to Harry’s stomach. For a brief moment he contemplates getting one tattooed.

The rest of the movie passes by in a blur, mostly because Louis is resting his head on Harry’s shoulder and he smells so good that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. It’s quiet soon after the credits finish, and Harry focuses on the inhale exhale of his breathing and the way Louis feels pressed against him, almost moving forward to intertwine their fingers together.

This time - he does. And Louis doesn’t move. There’s a hitch in both of their breathing when Harry strokes Louis’ hand with his thumb, but the smaller boy just cuddles more into his side, and all those words Harry keeps down come bubbling to the surface.

“What happened that night, Lou? Please tell me. I just. I don’t know how you can be okay with being my friend when I upset you so badly.”

Louis pulls his hand away. The moment’s ruined because Harry does that, he’s so good at ruining everything all the time because his mind never seems to shut off.

“What?” Louis deadpans. Alarm rushes through Harry’s at seeing his usually loud and boisterous friend so serious.”Are you saying - you don’t want to be friends?”

“N-no, that’s not it at all!”

“Because if that’s the case you can just -”

“Lou, I’m in love you, why wouldn’t I want to be your friend?”

He clasps a hand over his mouth, as if to stop himself, but it’s too late. Louis isn’t meeting his eyes anymore, and he’s moving off of Harry. Bride of Chucky shall now be related to the day Harry ruined his life.

“You’re.. you’re what?” Louis’ voice is hardly above a whisper, his small hands resting on tights, gaze firmly fixed on his shoes. This wasn’t how Harry had imagined this conversation going. (Usually it involved Louis reciprocating his feelings and a shag or two.)

Harry shrugged, running his hands through his hair. “In love with you?” The second time around didn’t make it hurt any less.

Louis is silent, still not looking at Harry, who’s trying to come up with an appropriate apology in his head (“sorry for loving you!” “sorry that I’m an emotional sap who thinks your smile could probably cure any ailment”).

“I think…” Louis sucks in a breath and Harry knows what’s coming, can feel this friendship falling through his hands, and he’s never regretted anything as much as this. “I love you too.”

_Oh._

 

Louis clears his throat as if to say he’s not done speaking even though Harry has no plans of ever talking again, but he feels his lips curl upwards, dimple poking out, because Louis fucking Tomlinson might love him too.

 

“That’s what happened with Zayn. I went over to his house after you had that crying fit and I was so torn up about everything because I had plans to tell you, to tell you everything, but then you were so torn down and I hated seeing you that way. I felt useless. I just want you happy.”

 

And yeah - Harry knows how that is.

 

***

  
  


Two weeks later, Harry’s crawling into bed after a marathon of the Paranormal Activity movies, only this time he’s not paralyzed with fear. He’s got Louis half asleep on his bed, pulling the covers over himself and waiting to curl up next to him and -

  
It’s not so scary anymore.   
  
  



End file.
